


Aftermath

by Liryczna



Series: the sour wine of regret [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bad break-up, F/F, Gen, Hux is a really spiteful ex, Hux-centric, M/M, OC characters - First Order officers, Reconditioning, memory manipulation, no porn in here I'm afraid, nobody cares about Snoke, plotting and politics, villains with friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liryczna/pseuds/Liryczna





	Aftermath

No story exists in the vacuum. The paths our lives take cross and tangle, often influenced by things we have never even heard of or no longer remember. Because of that, it is impossible to pinpoint a true beginning, one that would serve as a starting point for everything the story entails. In a way, the story has always been there before, can be traced back to the birth of the universe, the small changes in the cores of suns, which billions of years later dictate our steps. We are their children, random clusters of atoms bound together with borrowed energy, speeding through the empty space until we die... and they wrote our stories for us.

 

This is how _this_ story begins:

  


**one**

 

The footage is caught on five different camera angles focused on the general area of the bridge: two of them show an overview of the room, and one is trained on the viewport as the planet below dies, cut into pieces with a beam of light. The other two capture faces, and those are far more interesting than the rest. Tarkin is calm, his lips almost curled into a smile, but not really, not yet. It is impossible to guess what  Leia Organa is saying as the audio recording is missing, perhaps never recovered from the ship, but when Hux focuses, he can almost read it from her lips.

 

He knows he is going to be caught red-handed; he can hear his father's steps on the corridor right outside of the office. And yet he can't turn his gaze away.

 

Alderaan dies on repeat, over and over again.

 

(His father's punishment is cruel, but even at eight years old, Hux knows that the punishment never fits the crime.)

  


**two**

 

The desert seems endless, bound only with the deep blue stretch of the sky. The blood seeps into the ground, drank greedily by the hot sand, and Kylo Ren learnt a long time ago that lightsaber wounds never bleed enough. It takes away some of the satisfaction from the kill, the cut is too clean for his liking, death too painless and quick.

The disembodied head is still smiling, all teeth, its lips pursed into a parody of a grin, and the bright red feathers flutter as another gust of wind sweeps over the dune. Soon, the creature will be buried deep in the ground, forever preserved by the dry heat of this planet's surface.

Its words follow him into the ship, and then space as he runs away. He never managed to learn not looking back.

  


**three**

 

The seed is planted, watered, cared for. It grows tall and strong, uncurling violet petals in the direction of the sun.

 

The flower is cut, cleaned, pressed. Violet petals crumble into dust.

  


**four**

 

The night after his father dies in disgrace, Phasma comes to Hux' rooms, two bottles of non-regulation alcohol of unknown origin hidden somewhere on her person. Hux doesn't even ask how she knew, because at this point everybody knows. It's the worst kept secret of the whole First Order. He drinks, grits his teeth and fills a form after form. His name belongs to a dead man now, and Hux will be damned if he allowed his father's legacy to live even a moment longer than necessary.

 

Nobody ever mentions his first name again.

  


**five**

 

They dance around it for weeks, never admitting anything other than hate. It’s easier when pride binds their hands, when they still have their purpose.

When Starkiller falls apart, they can’t pretend any longer.

 

**six**

 

Kylo draws an axis across his body: a trail of soft kisses along the line of his spine, his thumbs circling, pushing into the flesh right above his hips. Hux moans - an ugly, involuntary sound - and reaches back to tangle his fingers in long black hair. He is centred, finally, unmovable and unflinching, but it is not enough.

 

He steals minutes, hours, days. It is never enough.

 

And then it ends.

 


End file.
